Voice of Narrator: There's nothing prettier than Hazzard County in the springtime, when the the birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and the lesbians are kissing.
The sun crested the mountain range and climbed higher into the sky, bathing the countryside in a warm golden glow. A crow spread its wings and drifted overhead, riding the thermals in lazy circles above the valley of Hazzard County. A slight breeze generated by the warming air rushed across the fields and ruffled the kudzu, goldenrod, and Queen Anne's lace that dotted the landscape. The rays began to burn off the dew that had collected overnight on the grass. It was a bucolic scene of almost unbearable beauty, and as the mercury climbed, the animals and plant life seemed to come awake and stretch toward the sun, craving the light and heat.
Things were beginning to heat up on the hood of the Miss Kitty Fantastico as well, though her engine had been shut off for a good half-hour. Miss Kitty, a bright orange 2006 Dodge Challenger, was parked by a stand of trees just off Watcher's Lane, one of the many dirt roads that wound around the backwoods of Hazzard. If she had been interested in such things, the crow, circling above, would have looked down to see a strange shape on the hood of the car, intertwined and entangled with itself such that it seemed to be a strange new breed of animal with four legs and four arms, like a giant spider, and that some mean-spirited giant young boy had tied its legs together, and it was struggling to free itself, rocking back and forth, side to side, its moans growing louder with increasing desperation.
But the crow was not interested in any strange new species, however distressed they might appear. Though if it had been, and had spiraled a little lower to get a closer look, it would have seen that it wasn't a giant spider on the hood of that car after all, but two human women, one red-headed and one blonde.
Willow Duke's face was out of sight, buried deeply in Tara Duke's bosom. Tara wore a thin white tank top with a plunging neckline, which was getting lower by the moment, what with the extra cargo of Willow's face urging it downward. Tara's eyes were closed and she was bracing herself on the hood with both hands behind her, her head thrown back in ecstasy. That expression was probably due to Willow's hand, which was thrust down the front of Tara's cutoff jeans shorts. Whatever that hand was doing was causing Tara's breath to come in gasps punctuated by moans and by more gasps.
"Oh, baby, I'm almost there," she said through clenched teeth.
Just then the Citizens Band radio mounted on Miss Kitty's dashboard crackled to life. "Breaker one-nine, Witch and Vixen, this is Sassy Slayer rounding the curve of Watcher's Lane and crossing Summers Creek Road. Come in, Witch and Vixen, come in."
"Yes, come in," Tara repeated, thrusting her hips forward.
Willow, however, did not come in, and instead jerked her hand out of Tara's shorts as if she had encountered a venomous rattlesnake.
"Willow Rosenberg Duke!" Tara protested. "I wasn't...there yet!"
Willow was furiously adjusting the collar of her shirt, buttoning her shorts, and smoothing her hair. "Didn't you hear, on the CB? Buffy's almost here. Button up your britches, sweetheart."
Tara sighed, and grumblingly buttoned up her jeans shorts. "Okay, Will, but this isn't over," she warned, shooting the redhead a look that was half sultry, half annoyed.
Willow didn't catch the look, as she was fumbling for the CB radio, so the only target Tara had for her irritated glare was her rear end that was displayed in an unintentionally pert pose as Willow was bent over reaching inside the driver's side window. "Copy that, Sassy Slayer, Witch here, over."
A reply was unnecessary, though, as a white Jeep skidded to a halt next to the Miss Kitty almost before Willow had stopped talking. The side door opened, and a pair of long, slender legs capped by four-inch heels came into view as the occupant swung her legs around and stepped out of the driver's seat.
Or not so long legs, really. Though she had only been back for two months, Buffy Duke was already well-known all over Hazzard County for her legs, her shorts, and the sharp edge of her tongue when a patron at the Bat's Nest, the bar where she waitressed, got a little too fresh. Buffy was of average height, and her legs were proportional for a girl her size, but the heels she chronically marched around in gave her a good four inches - not to mention her short-shorts.
The shorts had created quite a stir when Buffy had returned to Hazzard, and the county commissioner had introduced a bill to require all garments to reach the tops of the knees. It was voted down, though, when the county council realized that it would also ban miniskirts, and most of the secretaries at the county government offices favored them. A group of secretaries had descended at the public hearing about the bill clad in their most flattering miniskirts (with low-cut blouses for good measure) and had delivered passionate, moving testimony against the ban. The bill had gone on to fail by a landslide, with the only "yes" vote coming from, coincidentally, the only woman on the county council. Since then, people seemed to have accepted Buffy and her attire, and in fact a trend had started of referring to impossibly short shorts as "Buffy Dukes."
Buffy had seemed oblivious to the whole stir that her pants, or her sudden arrival back in Hazzard County had created, and today was no exception. Oblivious seemed to be the watchword as far as Buffy was concerned, although Tara knew that her cousin was more aware than she often seemed. But the ditzy blonde routine worked well enough for her when she needed some information from county law enforcement. And information from county law enforcement that the law enforcement officer wasn't exactly authorized to give out - and certainly not to a member of the Duke family, by golly - was what had brought Buffy in a tearing hurry to find her cousins.
"Y'all best get on back to the farm right away!" Buffy said without preamble. "Xander just told me that Boss Wilkins-Hogg and Sheriff Coltrane are fixin' ta serve us with an eviction notice!"
Alarmed, Tara left off her sulking and looked at Buffy with a shocked expression. "Eviction? What are those two up to now? We haven't done anything to be evicted for...have we?"
Buffy shrugged. "Xander didn't know - he just heard Boss and the Sheriff talking about it at the police station before they noticed he was there. But we've gotta get back - Uncle Giles is liable to tell 'em off and then they might try to haul him into jail. I come down here to find you because you haven't been answering the CB for the last hour. Barn door's open, Will."
"Huh?" Willow said, confused by the seeming non sequitur.
Buffy motioned towards Willow's jeans, the zipper of which was wide open.
"Oh!" Willow said, turning bright red. "When you CB'd, I was just about to...uh...go to the bathroom. I'll just go do that and be right with ya." She hurried off to a stand of bushes several yards away, the blush reaching the tips of her ears before she had reached her destination.
Buffy looked at Tara with an amused expression. "Why don't you two just be open about it?" she asked.
Tara's nonchalant reply conveyed that not only did she know that Buffy knew about her and Willow's relationship, but that she was also totally comfortable about it.
"It's what Willow wants," she shrugged, checking her own fly to make sure it was zipped. "She says it's a small town, rural area, and people are sensitive about that kind of thing."
Buffy cocked her head at Tara. "Sheeyit, Tare, nobody cares that you're both girls. Boss Wilkins-Hogg had two moms, and he'll lock up anybody who says anything bad about either one of 'em. It was him that passed that county-wide non-discrimination ordinance back in '97 - only one Georgia has to this day! Only good thing he ever done since he was in office, mind you."
Tara nodded. "I know that, and so does Will. It's not so much the gay thing, as the other thing."
Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Tara Maclay Duke, do I have to remind you that this is Hazzard County? Don't nobody care none that you two are cousins, neither."
Tara winced. "I think that one too many double negatives. Around here, you just need one."
Buffy frowned. "Damn. One day I'll get it right."
"Why do you do that, anyway?"
"I spent four years at Stanford, are you kidding? If I went around with prepositions not hanging off the ends of my sentences, or didn't split my infinitives, or for heaven's sake, left the 'g' on the end of the words, nobody in Hazzard would accept me. We gotta live here, you know."
"Well, I think you should be open about it," Tara smirked back at her.
"Touche," replied Buffy, as Willow returned from the shrubbery, yanking her zipper up as far as it would go.
"You two sword fightin'?" Willow asked.
"Naw," Buffy replied, climbing back into her Jeep. "That only happens in the back room of the Bat's Nest on Friday nights when William has that Liam feller in town visitin' him."
Tara rolled her eyes. "All right, let's just get back to the farm and figure this eviction thing out with Uncle Giles." She walked around to the passenger side of the Miss Kitty and sinuously slipped in through the open window.
"And no detours, y'hear, Will?" Buffy called out as she gunned her Jeep's engine and did a 180 on Watcher's Lane, kicking up a cloud of dust as she went.
Willow coughed and waved away the dust irritably. "Sometimes she is so juvenile," she said, climbing into the driver's seat next to Tara and turning the key in the ignition. The Miss Kitty roared to life, and the engine settled down into a deep purr as Willow gave it some gas before putting the car into gear.
"Here's the real question," Tara said, ignoring Willow's comment. "Do you think I'll forgive you if you don't finish what you started on the drive back to the farm?"
Willow looked over at Tara, not comprehending, but realization quickly flickered into her eyes as she saw Tara reclined slightly in the passenger seat, her jeans shorts once again unbuttoned and unzipped, her eyes half lidded and looking at Willow with unmistakable intent.
"Oh, I think maybe," she replied, as she reached over slipped her hand under the hem of Tara's panties. "If you can shift the gears for me."
"No problem," Tara replied, her hand closing around the gearshift as Willow's hand found its way back to where it had been before Buffy's arrival.
The Miss Kitty lurched off down Watcher's Lane, shuddering a little when it came time to shift gears. If the crow had followed their progress down Watcher's Lane and their turnoff at Summers Creek Road, it might have wondered if the driver of the car had had a little too much moonshine, because the car was weaving a little as it sped merrily down the road, a bumper sticker on its rear end reading "My Other Car Is A Broom."
Voice of Narrator: It's just lucky for those Dukes that no one in Hazzard County was around that morning but that crow. Crows don't pass judgment - and they don't drive, neither.